"But you got your cattle?"
"Well, they were mine—I paid for them. But that's all right. I'm much obliged to you for the trouble you took to catch the scoundrel—ten years I think he got? He ought to have been hanged. I'd have hanged him if I had been the judge. What are you after now? After more cattle-stealers?"
"Not this time. I'm on my way to Waroona; but I've been travelling all day and my horse is a bit knocked up. Can I turn him into one of your paddocks for the night?"
"Grass is worth money these times," the old man said slowly. "I suppose the Government will pay me for the use of the paddock, won't they?"
"You can demand it, of course, if you care to," Durham replied.
"And where are you going to camp? You'll want a feed, I suppose?"
"I reckoned I could get one here."
"Oh, you can get one here all right. There's no luxury about the place. I'm a poor man and just carry enough stores to keep me going. There's only me about the place now, so you'll have to do your own cooking; but you'll find it as comfortable as any bush pub, and cheaper, for there's no drink to be had, and half a crown for your supper and bed won't hurt you. You can take it or leave it—I'm not particular."
He climbed out of the buggy and began unharnessing the horse.
"You have heard of the robbery at the bank, I suppose, Mr. Dudgeon?" Durham asked.